


Pretend

by Death_Herself



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Addiction, Arrested, Cocaine, Dark Harry, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Hallucinations, Hurt Peter, Like Full on Rage, M/M, Makeup My Own Tags, Musical References, PCP, Prompt Fic, Rage, Rehabilitation, Spider-Man Freak Out, Tony Angst, Tumblr Prompt, Wade Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8829748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_Herself/pseuds/Death_Herself
Summary: ♪ We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the endWe were fated to pretend . ♪ Hello, world. Meet selfish Peter Parker and his insatiable drug habit. (Prompt inspired)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a tumblr [prompt](http://spideypool-prompts.tumblr.com/post/154223922135/prompt-122) that is similar to my other fic [How Soon is Now?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8486551/chapters/19448542).  
> I enjoy drug addicted Peter way too much to not write for this prompt! :D  
> Here you go anon! Hope you enjoy!

The ever shifting kaleidoscope of his life had his stomach wound into tight knots but the comforting euphoria within his hindered mind gave no fucks to physical and emotional pain. Pain, all too real in the daily life of Peter Parker. A man who had given his absolute to his city, his friends, his lovers, his family, and the world, only to be stripped of his dignity and happiness at every turn and swing.

  
Yes, Mr. Parker held on to the notion of ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ every day of his life as Spider-Man. He accepted personal loss and inner turmoil as unfortunate factors of his great powers. Left feeling alone in the responsibility of these powers and loss was more than any young adult should have to bear, but Peter owned those feelings, owned them until they owned him. 

On the brink of his demise he met a fellow slave to the loneliness within him. His darkness was larger than his own and his mind was left hindered by the greatness of his powers. The men found comfort in their mutual pain and suffering, high on the feeling of unconstrained companionship. The friends even allowed their high to bleed into a carnal rapture.

A collision of heaven and hell forming their fiery bliss of a relationship that was over as soon as it began. Peter couldn’t stop his feelings for the deranged mercenary from forming nor could he control the man himself. Their attraction was deeply connected, while their morals and broken minds were not.  
No matter how much the men pushed the other away, there can be no hell without heaven and no evil without good. The man, who gave so much, was finally given enough by a man with so little, only to have it ripped away. On the day their outwardly sordid love affair vanished, Peter paid a visit to his unwell friend, Harry Osborn.

 

*

 

Two months whipped by like a F-5 tornado, tearing through the young hero’s life and feelings to leave a barren trail of destruction in its wake. With Harry’s help, the impending heartbreak ahead of Peter didn’t seem so bad. A party promised tonight, had the men hurriedly preparing themselves.

 

“Shit.”

“Don’t tell me you dropped it.”

“Yeah.” Peter looked up from the floor to his friend who had his back turned. 

“You just dropped the last of my eight ball, Parker. What are we supposed to do now?” Harry whipped around and folded him arms as he eyed his friend on the floor over a mess of white powder on his antique rug.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I don’t-“

Harry raised his hand to calm his bumbling friend as he moved towards him. “We can get more before the party. In the meantime, here.” 

In his outstretched arm was an old fashioned crystal glass with warm amber liquid and the strong smell of the malt hit Peter with a fuzzy need. He graciously accepted the delicate glass and could feel the eyes above him burning into his blushing cheeks. The first sip he took left a foul burn on his tongue. He forced his hazel eyes to meet the eyes on his face. They were calm and collected, much like Harry at all times.

“It’s a new one.” Harry mused. Harry was very much enjoying taking Peter’s drug virginity. He was so sweet, so soft, so kind, and was bending his entire mentality while trying everything Harry offered. 

“What is it, Harry?” The inquiry was innocent even if the mouth it spilled from was odiously soaked in tainted malt.

“Just a little dust for New York’s Spider-Angel.” Peter should be more terrified than he was. Instead, he was enjoying both the F-5 he was swirling in and the amber liquid carrying phencyclidine into his system.

He was grateful for Harry, even if he was dangerous; grateful for their mutual understanding of each other’s entire life. This gratitude is what oiled the young hero’s current situation and what made him complete the drink in his sticky hand.

 

*

“Peter?” The voice was familiar but muffled, or maybe even blocks away. Peter clenched his eyes tightly to force his head to focus. Once the hazel eyes fluttered open again the focus slipped into waves of radiating heat from his body. The twisted face staring at him was Harry's, the heavy hand connected to the horrifying body was sending blinding pain through the shoulder it touched.

“Peter. We arrrrrn-“ the man speaking to him was drowned out by screams, and giggles. Peter covered his ears, wanting to scream himself as a gentle voice started to recite 

> _For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In every interaction, there is a pair of forces acting on the two interacting objects._

 

Harry guided the man hearing voices to the party as quick as possible. The guy throwing the party had a studio sound proof room upstairs that he could shove Peter into if he lost his cool again. They arrived and entered with no problems. For now, Harry ditched the tripping mess of a friend in the main room before heading to the basement.

A tingle of muscles in his hip was becoming increasingly annoying as he sat on the hard couch. Peter snaked his fingers to the spot to scratch at it, discovering something he’d not seen for almost a whole day. The thin rectangular object slid out of his pocket easily and felt heavy in his numb fingers. 

Illuminated screen revealing a name he had to read several times before pressing the red circle. His phone dropped from his hands as he looked around the crowded room he had sat down in. 

Evaporating silhouettes of bodies surrounded him menacingly within the room painted blue by a bright light. Screams and earthquake level vibrations poured out of a large black box in the corner. The box muted to a crackle and informative speech.

> _Giant tropical centipedes share their territory with tarantulas. Despite it’s impressive length it’s a nimble navigator and some can be highly venomous. As quick as lightening, just like the tarantula it’s killing the centipede has two curved hollow fangs which inject paralyzing venom. Even tarantulas aren’t immune from an ambush._

The hairs on Peter’s neck and arms stood on end at the alarm of an attack. His eyes darting to pinpoint the impending ambush. It was when the large couch under him started crawling that he discovered the location.

Twelve inch long centipedes tickled the numb skin of his arms. Like a spider on edge, he leapt from his perch on the couch and started swatting at his body while dashing off into another room. 

 

*

 

This room wasn’t any better, though it was quieter. A woman stood beside the door with her eyes glued to him. Her lips began to move as she chanted about the centipedes on the couch. Peter’s heart began to race as she told him that they bore into your stomach and lay their babies for safe keeping. 

The woman continued to chant as his hands touched her shoulders and roughly guided them to the wall. Her black hair started biting his hands as he shook the shoulders to stop her words from touching his frightened ears. Jolts in his stomach and pain in his back stripped the fear into reality. 

**_They are already inside my body!_ **

 

“Peter?”

“Is there a Peter here?”

Peter moved away from the woman and stared at the person that shouted his name. He confirmed his identity without thinking. A familiar rectangle was shoved into his hand.

 

“Hello?” Peter whispered into the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Who is this?” 

“You can’t tell who’s calling you, baby boy?” Anger boiled in Peter’s stomach, where the centipede was busy curling into a ball.

“I’ve told you to stop calling me, Wade!”

“Tell me where you are.” Wade’s voice was soft.

“No! You don’t get to baby boy me whenever you want something from me.” Peter pushed the red button again and shut down his phone before he wandered back into the party to find Harry.

 

 

*

 

 

Room after room ended in a fruitless search for the only person he knew. His shirt was stuck to his back as sweat continued to pour out of all his pores. 

“Harry!” 

Another fruitless attempt to find his friend, and a fall onto hardwood left the hero a broken mess on the floor. The centipede crawled into his throat and hit his gag. Peter heaved and coughed in an attempt to force the venomous creature out of his throat.

He almost had the foot long arthropod out of his body when a strong hand grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Peter swung his fist before he caught a glimpse of the person. The strike was effective enough to knock the person off of him. 

Eyes were wild and dilated when they met the only familiar face in the room. 

“What the fuck, Wade?” Peter hissed at his former boyfriend who was unmasked before him. The muscled figure straightened up catch the wild darting eyes.

“You look like shit. What are you on?” The hurt was present in Wade’s eyes, which only made the hero more anger.

“I’m not dealing with this.” His attempt to leave resulted in another grab from Wade. Peter again cranked his arm back to swing another punch but found himself in a tight grip with his face slammed against the wall.

“Get the fuck off of me! Wade! Get off!” He fought the restraints placed on his pinned arms and was unable to break them. **_Stark._**

The rough treatment Wade exerted as he drug Peter out of house party made the idea of invincibility surge through Peter to the fullest he’s ever experienced. As the front door approached, Peter continued to shout obscenities at his former lover, who ignored the harsh words.

Once close enough, the phencyclidine fueled body broke out the bruising grip and ran out the door. He barely reached the grass before he was tackled to it and pinned down by two hundred and twenty pounds of Wade Wilson.

“I do not want to taser you, Peter!” Wade’s voice wasn’t calm, in fact it was terrified. 

“Do it asshole!” The restrained man fought his capture tooth and nail.

“Are you on PCP??” Again Wade’s voice was frightened. A normally civil and reserved man whom he loved was pumped full of a drug that causes extreme rage and an emotional detachment.

“You gonna call me Spider-Angel like Harry? I fucking dare you, Wade.” The hindered brain not giving a single damn about spreading his secret identity to the world at this point.

“This is the only warning you get, baby boy. If you run, I will use the taser on you. And let me tell you, it is strong enough to take my ass down.” The mercenary pulled up the sweaty body from the ground and walked him to a waiting car. 

When he opened the back door, Peter dug his heels into the sidewalk and started fighting the restraints again. Wade growled against the wet ear beside him as he hoisted the writhing body off his feet. The next sound to pass Wade’s lips made the younger man burst into laughter. 

“You’re so easy, Wade. You don’t care who touches you.” He taunted as the hands restrained behind his back palmed the steadily growing crotch now within his reach.

Tossed like a dirty rag into the back seat, Peter glares up at the man as he slams the door. After a quick scan of the backseat, the swift kick of impending doom to his stomach pulled him back to something sinister. A word ripped out of Peter’s throat as the scratches up his esophagus became unbearable.

“Centipedes!!” 

Wade watched in the rearview mirror as the intoxicated hero retched and coughed in the back seat, pained cries about creatures in his stomach. Military training and serving in wars taught Wade a lot about hallucinations and how to calm a man at his wits end.

It didn’t change the fact that the man at his wits end was someone as special and damaged as Peter Parker.

“Don’t worry, Petey. I know someone who can get rid of those centipedes.”

 

 

*

 

 

“I’m outside. Yeah. Yeah it’s bad. I need help.”

A glance back at Peter writhing and groaning on his side forced Wade to swallow against the tight knot I his throat. He hadn’t seen Peter in two months. Not since he had abruptly broke off his relationship with the hero. The reasons were petty, they didn’t change his feelings for the man. He was scared the world’s best hero would toss him to the curb after finally waking up to see Wade for who he was. He wanted to beat the man to the punch.

Bucky Barnes and Steve Rodgers exited the doors of the douche tower towards Wade, who stepped out of the car. 

“Ready?” Steve looked between the fellow soldiers standing around him, the two nodded. A unison inhale between the trio before Bucky opened the back door. Wade’s hands wrapped around the shoulders of the man heaving heavy breaths in the back seat.  Startled into consciousness now as he was being man handled.

“Wade! Let me go!” He shouted at the man who had pulled him out of the car. Multiple hands on his body forced Peter to struggle harder. 

“You can’t do this to me! I’m not doing anything wrong!” 

The winter soldier had a tight hold on the kicking extremities, while America’s Dream and the Merc with the Mouth each had a restrained arm in their grasps. 

“Wade, you fucker!” Usually docile and beautiful features were twisted into demented snarls pointed towards the sullen mercenary to his left. 

Violently loud retching and full body tremors muted the snarls. The centipede was at it again. His long body was desperately trying to get comfortable in his very rude host.

A spooked look from Steve earned a huff from Wade and nothing from Bucky. They only continued the trek into the overzealous headquarters for the heroic rat pack. 

As if his presence was his way of helping the young hero gain sobriety, Tony Stark began to speak,

“Ahh, Peter. I’m glad you’re finally safe. Mr. Wilson here was-“

A seething Peter Parker whipped his head back and spit a large amount of saliva into his mentor, his idol, THE Tony Stark’s face. The play boy just stood there with a priceless expression of both shock and annoyance. Wade whipped out his phone and took a picture, to which Tony glared.

“If I have to ask to be let go, one more fucking time, I’m going to start-“ Tony grabbed his jaw in his palm and pressed his upward so the boy wouldn’t talk.

“You’re going to start cooperating. I understand partying, Peter. I gave you more than enough time to get it out of your system and come back to the work you were born to do.”

Peter shook his head in an attempt to free himself from the firm grip. The low gritty voice started again, “No. You’re going to cooperate. Pot should be legal, white trash do meth, hoodlums do PCP, Heroin is free game, and professionals do coke. Since when are you a hoodlum, Spider-Man?”

The two locked eyes and stayed this way for a while before Tony stepped back. Peter just hung his head and let the men carry him to the room waiting for him.

 

*

 

“Get it out!!” He thrashed and screamed for the better part of three hours in the small room he was tethered down in. Bruce Banner was observing him for those three hours to determine what to do. 

He looked to the one way glass where he knew Wade Wilson watching before he stepped to the side of the bed. “Where is the centipede right now?”

“Stomach. He’s going to kill me! Please!” He pulled against the restraints, his eyes dilated and full of fear as they met Bruce’s gaze. Who only nodded as he held out a small cup. He explained,

“This will dissolve the arthropod and force it out of your stomach.”

He held Peter’s head up before helping him down the horrible tasting liquid. Bruce grabbed a kidney dish off the rack before he stood firm beside him. 

Violent retching produced liquid this time, instantly pleasing the pained hero, as he expelled all there was to expel in his sore stomach. 

The two scientists looked in the dish to see a dark brown liquid mixed in the yellow stomach acid. Bruce noticed that it immediately soothed the man in the bed. Enough so that he fell asleep.

 

*

 

The young hero with powers matching spiders was thankful for one thing only while staying in this terribly white hospital room in the Avenger HQ, his healing factor. Though it was nothing compared to Deadpool’s, it made breaking down the strong drug quicker than it would for normal people. 

Mid-day three Bruce Banner entered his room to go over the papers in his hand. Words like, withdrawal, rehabilitation, therapy, and suspended leave from the Avengers all grated on his mountain of dirt burying his feelings.

At least Bruce had removed the centipede, that he knew wasn’t real now, but in the moment it meant a lot.

“Why am I suspended, Dr. Banner?” Tears formed in his eyes which brought a flush of anger to his cheeks.

“It’s just until you complete the rehabilitation. We don’t want to force you into another stress involved situation that could cause a relapse.” He had such soft eyes and features that were everything Peter wished he could have had in a father. 

“I’m not stressed with work. I'm heartbroken.” Peter admitted before covering his face with his bandaged and needle filled hands.

“Everything will be okay. I hope you’ll accept my help.” The older man placed a soothing hand on Peter’s shoulder before taking his leave. “Oh, can  _he_ see you?”

A growl passed covered lips before he let out a soft yes. Not even a moment passed before the cause of all Peter’s heartbreak that lead to bad decisions bound in the room to stand beside the bed.

He was silent as he stood over the man sitting up. Wade Wilson, Merc with the Mouth, was silent. Shock was an understatement for what Peter was feeling.

 

“Why?”

“Why what?” Wade asked.

“Why did you leave me?” Peter pointedly glared at the six foot and some man.

“I’m petty.”

“You left me alone. Like you promised you wouldn’t do.” The tears in his eyes fell this time.

“Baby boy, I’m sorry…” He raised his hand to comfort the fragile man with tear stained cheeks but stopped.

“I hate you so much. More than anyone I’ve ever hated.” This blow to the gut made Wade whimper. His body pulled away from Peter as the younger of the two continued.

“I hate you nearly as much as I love you.” Admitted in earnest, Peter felt the heat rush over him again. He refused to look at the greatest love of his life.

 

A heavy breath was stuck in Wade’s throat after he heard how much conviction was behind the words. It took much force to allow the breath to escape so he could speak. He fell to his knees before a word was muttered.

“How can I fix this?”

Peter looked at him finally, it was unlike Wade to be so humble, to be so vulnerable. His eyes were pleading for a real answer.

“Don’t leave me.” Peter whispered to the man.

“Will you stop destroying yourself with drugs?” 

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s not a proper answer.” Wade raised an eyebrow at Peter who gave a pained smile before nodding. The pair smiled in unison. The mercenary leaned in closer to his idol. Peter looked over the marred skin before closing their gap and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

 

Deadpool flashed a smile larger than his personality to his one and only. The apparition of the red and black hood covering his flesh made Peter dizzy. Hazel eyes lost in the white fabric of the mask, knowing those whisky colored eyes were meeting his without see them. 

Their thoughts were one, _**This is worth fixing**_. Leather touched Peter’s soft skin on his arm before those same gloved hands were on the door frame. 

 

“See ya in three weeks, sweet cheeks.”

 


End file.
